Friday, 29 July 2011

The boys and I have just returned from a few days in the north, visiting my Ma.

My Brother the boy's Uncle Matty and their Cousins flew in from Copenhagen to join us.

And so the fun began.

The children ran wild all over the chamomile lawn, yes really a chamomile lawn

and partook of the traditional family pursuit of beating their uncle up at any given moment.

After which Uncle Matty and I sat down over a bottle or two of cold beer to some serious time travel.

The trouble is one of the many things I have inherited from my Ma is the hoarding.

Only this time she took it to another level.

She had been through the boxes in the loft and it would appear she still owns more or less

ALL of our childhood toys.

All of which she had brought up to her old stone cottage on the Lancashire moors for the grandchildren to play with.

It was like stepping in to a museum of our childhoods.

Matt's cars.

The rag dolls I made in the 1980's.

The spanish tambourine Great Auntie Winnie brought back from one of her holidays touring the religious high spots of Europe.

And best of all, minus one arm, two feet, his super mega motor bike and the red windy uppy thingie, Evel Knievel!

On the fun we had with him in the hot summers of the 1970's in the lane outside this very cottage. Winding him up, letting him go, hoping he would do a wheelie this time and please oh please make it over the row of double decker busses this time Evil!

Thursday, 21 July 2011

Last Saturday was the date of my last kids sewing class for this academic year.

Next stop Halloween where unusually for me I already know what we will be making.

But more on that much nearer the time.

We were making flags. It was great the kids all designed and decorated the flags them selves.

Due to to total organisational melt down on my part I had only one sample ready to show them before the class started. It was great. They let their imaginations run wild and all came up with such different things.

I love watching the children work and over come problems.

Some come with a VERY clear idea of what they want to do.

One girl very close to my own heart came with her design already drawn out this time.

It was ambitious, it was fiddly, it was time consuming. But she wasn't going to change anything.

It was more or less finished by the time the class finished.

She has the summer break stretching before her to finish off the fiddly bits.

The boys are my favourites. I know I shouldn't have favourites, but they just make me laugh so much. The things they make.

A killer Pokemon monster with an extra leg in this case.

Children alway surprise you. You think you know them you think you have it sussed. You make preparations made on these assumptions, then they all go and do something very different.

One young lady turned up in fury ear muffs in the middle of July and made a snow flake flag.

It looks fab, she enjoyed it, we kept quite.

And Oscar, lovely Oscar who is only 6 did all this by himself while us adults and quite a few children cooed and cuddled his baby sister.

Well done to all my lovely children,there just isn't the space to show you all here today, have fantastic summers all of you.

Thursday, 14 July 2011

She had a bearded Red headed jazz fan for a father and a Hippy with Lancastrian - African connections for a Mother.

Two of the most important people in all of their lives were Thora and Jimmy,

the hippy mother's aunt and uncle.

They lived in an ancient two up two down cottage with out door facilities up on the Lancashire moors.

It had walls two foot thick and always smelt of baking.

It had a series of Heath Robinson style out houses that Uncle Jimmy had built him self from bits of wood he scavenged and salvaged here, there and every where.

Most memorable of which was the glass house for his tomatoes made from

rotting old sash windows.

For our own safety us children were not allowed in there.

We would arrive by train in Manchester to a huge reception party consisting of various ageing Aunties, we would be bundled on to a smaller train to Bury and then on to a bus out to our village, Tottington.

When we arrived there we would leave our heavy suitcases at the butchers to be picked up by Uncle Jimmy on his way home from work.

Then came the long walk up the hill past the dungeon,

over the field and along the lane.

The cheery white cottage was always winking at us, inviting us in, always full of food and old ladies.

After a few days of roaming round the countryside and trips to the infamous Bury market, Mum would take a trip in to the village to see the cobbler.

He had a tiny little workshop behind what is now the Chinese takeaway.

I remember it being dark and dirty with a long work bench covered in tools,

but who knows how accurate this memory is as the last time I was there my nose wouldn't have even reached as high as the bench.

It was one of the last places in all of Lancashire to make

traditional wooden bottomed workman's clogs.

The very idea of it sung sweet music in the hippy Mother's ears.

My Brother and I had a new pair every year.

For many years now they have been transported about from loft to loft as part of my Mother's many moves.

At one point I liberated the smallest pair and have had them hanging

in my various abodes ever since.

When the Ginger Ninja was born there was some debate about wether or not he should wear them, but somehow it never transpired.

Now I'm thinking "what a shame" and "can you imagine the damage he would have done with those?" in equal measure.

About Me

Nora has red hair and a big bum. She likes G&T, chocolate, cakes, clutter, aprons, Nana's, dancing badly and clapping out of time. Nora doesn't like sticky messes, and not being able to sing. She also regrets not being 6 foot tall or being able to do a piercing whistle. However Nora wants an end to poverty, hunger and suffering in the world brought about by the medium of sewing.